


Crossed Wires

by akaparalian



Series: Roy/Ed Week 2016 [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Freudian Slip, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 02:56:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7600711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akaparalian/pseuds/akaparalian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, whatever, I’m getting back to work then,” Ed says, as though he hasn’t been reading and writing literally this entire time, and as though he doesn’t know Mustang knows that. “Love you, bye.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t realize what he’s said until he’s already set the receiver back down and turned to resume his work. Then, all at once, that little admission that slipped out without his say-so hits him like a ton of bricks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossed Wires

**Author's Note:**

> Roy/Ed Week, day three! For July 27, I chose the prompt "automatic." Sorry this one is quite a bit shorter, tomorrow's literally will not leave me alone and has been diverting all my attention. ;__;

“I heard you the first time, asshole.”

There’s a beleaguered sigh from the other end of the line, which is _rich_. Ed, after all, is not the one who goes around calling people and interrupting their _actual work_ to talk in circles about some-or-other military bullshit -- especially not when, by the fucking way, said people _aren’t even in the military anymore_ and _do not actually have to listen to you_. He, Edward Elric, is not the one who does that. That would be Mustang, because of-fucking-course it would. Ed turns a page in the book he’s skimming through with far more force than is strictly necessary.

“I just wanted to ensure there weren’t any… I’ll be charitable and call it a ‘mix-up’ -- no more _mix-ups_ this time, Edward,” Mustang says flatly, which completely isn’t fair, because -- oh _no_ , Edward barges into _one_ meeting with the upper brass while spitting vulgarities at his former CO _one_ time and it is _such a big deal that it can never ever be forgotten._ It’s not even like he doesn’t feel bad about it, like, he said he was _sorry_ , and he hadn’t even laughed that much about Mustang’s expression of pure horror. At least not to his face.

“Yeah, well, there won’t be. I apologized already for -- last time. It won’t happen again. Will that be all, _your excellence_?” he snips back, voice heavy with sarcasm, flipping rapidly through the pages in search of -- there it is, fucking diagram was hiding from him. He jots a quick note in the margin, only half listening for Mustang’s response. 

“Yes, Fullmetal, that will be all.” He’s using that super-special ‘I would be annoyed, but you’re too far beneath me’ voice, which, like, fuck him. Ed honestly can’t believe sometimes that he hasn’t yet just -- lit the bastard on fire. Even though that’s kind of a role reversal. Whatever, Ed can do fire, too, s’not like it’s _hard_.

‘Course if he did that, he’d miss him. Eventually. Maybe. He’s sure as hell glad they’re both back in Central now -- whatever shitty past associations this place may have, it’s… kind of nice to know that Roy Mustang is within his sphere of influence, and not, like, off in the ether where Ed can’t reach him to yell at him in person if he needs to. Or come save his sorry ass if he gets himself involved in any more coups.

“Okay, whatever, I’m getting back to work then,” Ed says, as though he hasn’t been reading and writing literally this entire time, and as though he doesn’t know Mustang knows that. “Love you, bye.”

He doesn’t realize what he’s said until he’s already set the receiver back down and turned to resume his work. Then, all at once, that little admission that slipped out without his say-so hits him like a ton of bricks. “Shit. _Shit._ Shit shit shit shit shit.”

“You okay in there?” Al calls from the other room, with a meter of caution that says he doesn’t know yet if this is a situation where he should laugh at his brother or help him hide the body. Ed sure hopes he decides on the latter, because the body they’re going to be hiding is probably going to be his. Once he spontaneously combusts and _burns himself to death_ with the sheer force of his own stupidity. 

“Fine,” he calls back to his brother, deciding to completely ignore the way his voice sort of cracks in terror. This is, in fact, much, _much_ worse than referring to Roy as a ‘moldering bag of dicks’ in front of roughly half of the most powerful people in the company. General Armstrong and Fuhrer Grumman had laughed their asses off at that, Hawkeye had smirked in that way that was basically her in-uniform version of uproarious laughter, and nobody but Mustang had even been, like, _mad_. But this…

Okay, he tells himself desperately, it’s fine. This is fine. Mustang probably won’t ever bring it up again, will he, because even using it to laugh at Ed would mean _acknowledging_ it. And even if he does mention it, it ought to be fairly easy to pass off as a reflex. _No, see, I usually only ever call Al, or, like, Granny, or Winry…_ That’s a reasonable excuse. He can do this. He takes a deep breath and decides he almost feels settled enough to go back to his reading. At least alchemy won’t laugh at him.

The phone starts ringing again.

He freezes, staring at it like it’s going to bite his hand off. Then again, that would be _far_ preferable to what he suspects it’s _actually_ going to do, which is deliver him right back into the waiting maw of horrific embarrassment. 

“Brother?” Al asks, actually poking his head into the room this time. Ed swallows hard.

“Yeah, uh, I got it,” he manages, then reaches for the phone like he’s going to his own execution.

Before he even has a chance to say anything, Roy’s voice is in his ear, uncharacteristically -- _ruffled_. “Edward?”

_Unfortunately_ , Ed thinks. “Uh. Yes.”

There’s a deep exhale on the other end of the line, and when he speaks again Roy sounds at least marginally more put together. There’s still an undercurrent of madness to his voice, though, and Ed’s not entirely sure whether that bodes well for him or poorly. Based on previous experience with his own luck, he’s betting on poorly. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“I thought the thing was later this week,” Ed replies, frowning. There’s a deep, exasperated sigh on the other end of the line, which. Well, at least that’s normal. 

“It is, Edward, I just told you that at _least_ three times. Are you free tomorrow? Tomorrow evening, say seven o’clock?”

Oh, _god_ , Ed can maybe admit that sometimes he’s a little oblivious but he’s not _that_ oblivious. “Um,” he chokes.

“I’m interested in discussing the seriousness of your -- claim,” Roy offers, and the thing is -- the thing is. Ed _knows_ Mustang has dated more people than he can count, because he’s seen and heard tell and Havoc literally _never_ shuts up about his girlfriends getting ‘stolen.’ But at the same time, he kind of sounds like having this conversation makes _him_ want to die, too, so maybe they’re on the right track.

“Do you like Aerugan food?” Ed blurts, and then lamely tacks on, “I know this -- really great place. Not far from me and Al’s. Uh. If you’re interested.”

“That sounds excellent.” He sounds so damn _relieved_ , latching onto it like a lifeline, and a small part of Ed kind of wants to cry, and a much larger part wants to cry laughing. What the shit is going on? What is this? What has he just gotten himself into?

“Seven?” he repeats, and tries not to squirm at the sound of Roy’s breath catching on the other end of the phone.

“Seven,” Roy agrees.

Ed very carefully does not say anything else before he hangs up the goddamn phone.

 


End file.
